


The Origin of Magi

by Catsitta



Series: Assorted Oneshots [19]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drama, F/M, First Meetings, Gift Fic, Light Angst, Mages, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Soulmates, Undertale Monsters on the Surface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: Your life was pretty normal until a skeleton showed up muttering about souls.Sans/Reader | Gift Fic | Soulmates AU
Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Assorted Oneshots [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413808
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	The Origin of Magi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mmishame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmishame/gifts).



> This is a Gyftmas 2020 Secret Santa gift for mmishee. Hope I did your prompt justice!

“my soul is resonating with a human’s? impossible…human souls don’t contain enough magic in them unless—”

You were shoulder deep in a freezer, fishing out the last carton of your favorite ice cream that was stuck all the way in the back, when you heard the man speak. At first, his words really didn’t register. Honestly, why would they? It was a grocery store. People wandered through the aisles talking to themselves all the time. Except, the snippet you caught was definitely not the usual grumblings of a stray husband sent to the store to get rocky-road and pickles for his pregnant wife before she broke down into tears again. Prize captured, you retreated from the freezer, and turned to put the carton in your basket when you found yourself face-to-skull with a literal, walking skeleton.

Nobody could blame you for the shriek of surprise that escaped as you nearly leapt out of your skin and into the frosty glass. Scratch that. No skin jumping, but you stumbled and cracked your head against the freezer door, a sputter of expletives following suit. Ooooooh that hurt. That hurt so much. Were you bleeding? No. A brisk check of the tender spot assured you that beyond a bit of bruising, you were fine. 

“uh, oh...sorry.”

You peeked open an eye to see the poor skeleton monster you’d probably just accidentally traumatized. Not that he wasn’t a little at fault. Boundaries, people, boundaries. He was awful close and anybody would have been a little spooked if a stranger just appeared in their personal space bubble. The skeleton rubbed the back of his skull, his eyelights diverted, his shoulders slumped. His other hand was buried in the pocket of his rumpled blue hoodie that was half zipped and showed a peak of the NASA t-shirt he wore beneath. 

“It’s fine,” you said, dropping the ice cream into your basket and picking it up. “I’m fine. Just surprised me is all. Have a nice day.” Part of you wanted to stay and talk, if only to soothe the itching curiosity that came with meeting a monster for the first time. They emerged from under a mountain near Ebott City over a year ago and made international news. Few in numbers, most stayed in the city and close to the embassy that opened there, but some traveled, like their superstar icon, Mettaton. Which meant that unless you lived in or near Ebott, it was unlikely to run into a monster in day-to-day life. 

Him being a skeleton, however, wasn’t exactly the most endearing quality. He wasn’t fuzzy or friendly looking. But rather, his appearance was a stark reminder of death, as skulls and bones were things humans had long since associated with decay. Which meant, yes, caution outweighed curiosity in this instance. Did that make you a terrible person? Walking away because he was spooky looking?

“hey, uh, wait up,” he called out, and you complied, conflict weighing in his favor. If you ran off, you would be a bad person, because while he was a scary looking person, he was still a person. So you glanced over your shoulder and saw him nervously shuffling your way in fuzzy pink slippers. He didn’t come too close, as if realizing his trespass of your boundaries, before stopping again. “this is gonna sound a little strange but...can i check you?”

You flicked your gaze over him from head-to-toe and then back to those pale, glowing false eyes, “That your way of asking if you can check me out or somethin’?” An arched brow and a motion at your unflattering sweats later you added, “I am rocking the height of ‘I didn’t feel like doing laundry’ chic. Very sexy, I know.”

The skeleton snorted and the corners of his mouth twitched, “i mean, ya can’t beat comfortable. it’s a classic.” He shrugged and cleared his non-existent throat, “but nah, m’not askin’ to check ya out...i’ll save that for later.” He winked. Well damn. How did he make his voice sound like that because okay, your heart did a little flutter you weren’t expecting when it deepened to a flirty pitch. “a check is, huh, it’s hard to explain in human terms, but it’s like a snapshot of who you are as a person broken down into stats. it’s considered rude to check someone without permission outside of an encounter.”

Well that made absolutely no sense, “Kay...can I ask why you want to CHECK me?”

He gave another shrug, “peace of mind. and, uh, i can see if that one-sided fight with the freezer didja any damage.”

Weird, but okay. You didn’t see any harm, “Go for it, I guess?” The skeleton sighed and stared at your chest. A second later, a chill skittered down your spine like somebody just ran over your future grave. It was weird and invasive and okay, no wonder they asked permission to do whatever this was he was doing. Suddenly, his eyelights guttered out and sweat beaded on his skull. Woah. “Are you okay? You’re looking kinda...sweaty.”

“can i have your number?!” he blurted out.

“...No? Why do you want it anyway?”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned like he was in pain, “you’re not gonna believe me. stars, i can hardly believe it myself.” He drew in a breath, shoulders dropping, smile fatalistic, “whelp, might as well get it out there.” He offered a gloved hand in greeting, “my name’s sans. sans the skeleton. and you’re my soulmate.”

A beat then…

You pivoted on your heel and booked it out of the freezer aisle. 

“look, i know i sound crazy but—”

Another shriek escaped as Sans stepped out in front of you. What the hell. He was just...and now he was...What kind of stage show magic was this? 

“please, just hear me out,” he pleaded, before fumbling with his phone. From it, he pulled out a sharpie and a pad of paper. “i’ll give you my number, and if you could just sleep on it—”

“How did you do that?”

“huh?”

“That thing with your phone? And appearing at the front of the aisle?”

Sans blinked, “uh. magic?”

You inched a little closer, curiosity winning out over concern. It looked like a normal smartphone. And the news mentioned that monsters had unusual abilities and composition. Something about dust and magic. But magic—real magic—that wasn’t real. Right? All of this could be explained by science. Electrical currents and physics and all those complicated subjects you barely squeaked by in school. Sans, noticing your shift from distrust to inquisitiveness, pocked the pen and paper to show you the phone screen. Its interface was bizarre.

“if you touch this button here, you can access my inventory,” Sans said, motioning to a little box icon. “go ahead, give it a try.”

“Really?” At his nod, you did as instructed, and a list of items popped up. Your brows slanted together, “How many whoopie cushions do you have in here?”

“you can never have too many whoopie cushions,” he replied with the utmost seriousness. Other items included: Left Sock, Ketchup, Grocery List, Hand Buzzer, Bone Cologne, Comb (???) and House Key. You couldn’t help it. Call you Pandora but it was too tempting to not tap one of the items. A second later, there was a tug on your chest and a comb appeared in your palm. “every skeleton needs a bone comb. keeps our magnificent, flowing locks looking flawless.”

You snorted. He chuckled. 

Then, his nervousness returned, “look, i know we got off on the wrong foot and i probably shoved said foot in my mouth already, but…” He fidgeted, “i really would like to exchange numbers. there’s stuff you should know.”

“This about your soulmates comment?” Once more you were apprehensive. 

Sans’ sockets were pleading, “it’s not what you think. look, long and short, soulmates isn’t some grand, all-consuming romantic thing like human media makes it to be. but it is a real thing, especially for monsters.” When you made no move to give your own number, he returned the phone to his pocket, retrieved the pen and paper, and wrote his down. Warily, you accepted the scrap. “think about it. please.”

And just like that, he walked away, shoulders bowed in defeat as he vanished from sight, and possibly your life forever. 

.

Two weeks and a few too many cocktails at girl’s night later, you found yourself at home, alone, staring blankly at the ceiling. The apartment was quiet save for the occasion hum of cars passing by. You could have stayed out later. You didn’t work in the morning. But the more you drank, the more weird thoughts and feelings cropped up. You kept picturing that skeleton monster’s face and voice and you ached. As if you’d just walked out of an interview for your dream job or watched your best friend disappear into an airport as they prepared to move a world away. Except Sans was a stranger. A complete and utter stranger. 

Whose number burned like a brand on the corner of the coffee table. Whose bone comb laid on top like a misbegotten trophy. 

It didn’t make any sense.

You spoke to the guy once.

_Soulmates._

Blaming the alcohol, you forced yourself into the shower to chase away the odd yearning. But even when you were clearer headed and pinked from hot water, the feeling lingered. Ire welled up uninvited. He must have done something to you to force you to talk to him. Well, you had enough, he was going to tell you what he did and make it stop!

(Maybe you were still a little irrational from the drinking.)

You dialed the number, uncaring that it was 2 in the morning. It rang three times before a low, sleep-husky voice answered, “hullo?”

“What did you do?”

“who is this?”

“Your soulmate, apparently, _Sans_ and I would like to know what you did to me.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, “i didn’t _do_ anything to you. but lemme guess, you’re feelin’ _bonely_ and now you got a _bone_ to pick with me?”

“What’s happening to me?” Your voice cracked. 

“awe shoot. don’t cry. i never know what to do when a pretty girl cries.”

“Fix it, then! FIX IT! I wanna sleep but hearing your voice makes the ache go away and you need to make it stop!” God you sounded like a hypochondriac. It was the booze. You knew better than to drink that much. Once the fun stopped, the crash was hard. You sniffed, “What’s happening?”

“it’s complicated. do you have time for us to meet in person so i can explain?”

You went to bed that evening with an alarm set for early the next morning. Tomorrow, you would meet Sans at a coffee shop nearby and get this weirdness sorted out. Maybe then you’d sleep properly.

.

“Fix. It.”

Haggard from the early hour and the hangover, you had little patience for anyone or anything, and glowered at Sans over a cup of your favorite joe. He fussed with his sleeve, sweat creeping down his skull like he’d just run a marathon.

“that’s a _tall_ order, heh.”

You swallowed a mouthful of coffee, “Simplify it.”

“whelp. i’ll try. not a skele _ton_ of information out there. let’s start with what you know about monsters.” When your mediocre knowledge came to light, he nodded along. “guess the easiest way to start is with the difference between monsters and humans.” Humans were made of flesh and bone, their souls bright with a variety of traits, depending on their core personality. This trait could change over time or due to trauma, and adult humans tended to have duller souls than children. But one thing every human soul contained more of than every monster was DETERMINATION. While rarely a dominant trait in adults, even in the most spineless and desolate of humans, it was greater than the most willful of monsters.

Monsters, who were made of magic and dust, were born of compassion and hope and love. Monsters didn’t have colored souls—theirs were inverted and always white, though they could have dominant traits like humans that were reflected in the behavior of their magic. 

It was a rather informative session of the biology of souls (which were apparently real and not metaphysical) but it didn’t answer your question. Sans continued into a brief history lesson. How monsters and humans used to live on the Surface peacefully, but one day, a war broke out and to prevent further bloodshed, the king of monsters allowed him and his people to be imprisoned below the mountain. Monsters were greatly outnumbered and pacifists by nature. Aside from a few outliers, they were mostly helpless. 

“mages sealed us with a spell. monsterkind was forgotten due to their hand. and so humans didn’t come seek us out to exterminate us while vulnerable. a blessing and a curse. a final kindness.”

“Wait, mages. Like humans with magic?”

“yep.”

“But you mentioned earlier when talking about souls how humans don’t have magic, while monsters are made mostly of magic.”

“humans don’t have _much_ magic. some, however, are born with more than others. mages are the offspring of humans with enough magic laying dormant in their souls to have a resonance with a monster—or, more simply, is a soulmate with one. humans and monsters are generally incompatible and cannot produce offspring, and mating between them is, ah, dangerous for the monster.”

You couldn’t help it. You looked him up and down. 

Sans arched a brow, his skull flushing slightly blue, “before ya ask, m’all bones, pal. monsters don’t have the same...bits and bobs as humans.”

“How the hell do monsters and humans have kids then?”

“the monster way. through, uh, love and affection and the harmonizing of souls with the desire for offspring.”

“Why do I have the feeling this is the PG explanation?”

“you wanna explain the mechanics of human reproduction while housewife betty over there eavesdrops?” He thumbed towards a middle-aged woman at a table nearby, who suddenly took an interest in her loud hellspawn who had been pestering her for a cake pop for the past ten minutes. Oh the joy of public spaces. “let’s just leave it nice and child-friendly for now, yeah?”

“Point taken,” you said before muttering a soft curse at your now empty coffee cup. “Now, explain how soulmates aren’t the schmaltzy romantic trope humans make it out to be.”

Sans averted his eyelights and shifted, “a resonance of souls is compatibility. you can have a soulmate that is a family member or a close friend. but it’s more common to have an unrelated soulmate, as they’re incredibly rare to start with. most harmonies are built on trust and love over time until a bonding rite can be performed and bonding is required to produce children. soulmates kinda...defy the norm? soulmates that have come close enough for their souls to resonate form a pseudo bond of sorts that, akin to a forged bond, bridges two individuals together. and bonded souls want to be close together. soulmated couples are, uh, usually pretty prolific and soulmated friends or family members generally live together, even if they are also matebonded.” He let out a breath, like speaking for so long was a chore. “it’s considered joyous to find one’s soulmate.”

“So, let me get this straight, if you were soul married or whatever, it’d be perfectly normal for you to move your soulmate into your home?”

“yep. guessin’ that’s not how humans go about it.”

“Dude, if I was hitched, unless we were in some kind of open relationship, that’s a no go. You don’t go falling in love with another person and bringing them home.”

“monsters are generally monogamous too. s’not like a soulmate is just anybody.”

Silence befell the table as you crinkled your empty paper cup and Sans stared at everything but your face. The ceiling and the floor both held particularly strong interest to him. 

“Does that mean you can’t fix this weird feeling in my chest?”

Sans shrugged. He did a lot of that, “sure i can. but i have a feelin’ you won’t like the answer.”

“Hit me.”

“till death do us part,” he met your eyes.

You stood, chair screeching as you did so. The coffee shop seemed to hold a collective breath, as if in wonder. Sans shut his sockets, looking terribly small and tired, ready to curl up and sleep for the rest of his life. And god did you know how that felt. Loneliness. Defeat. Despair. 

“You’ll need to buy me more than coffee if you want the Hallmark deal.”

His head snapped up, “huh?”

You adjusted your purse strap, “Look, I may not understand everything that’s going on. But I do know that sitting alone in my apartment thinking about your sad, puppy dog face, is just going to make me go nuts. If what you’re saying is true, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. You free next Friday after seven?”

Sans swallowed and gave a small nod.

“I’ll text a place for us to meet. We can have all those invasive date questions like ‘Do you wanna have kids’ and ‘What are your thoughts on butterfly tattoos gotten when in a fit of rebellious, eighteen year old angst?’” 

He looked you over and apparently had quite the imagination, because at the mention of the tattoo, the slight flush of blue deepened. Well that answered one unspoken query: If he was even attracted to humans. You weren’t quite sure of your own feelings on the matter, because he was all bones. But looks never mattered much to you. And hey, even if the both of you never wanted to smooch, you could be the best of friends or whatever. 

Right?

Sans waved as you left, and you’d never tell a soul that come that evening you dreamt of a little human toddler in your arms with eyes that gleamed electric with magic.


End file.
